


We Have the Technology

by coreopsis



Series: cyborg au [2]
Category: Alkaline Trio (Band), Bandom, Bob Bryar fandom
Genre: AU, Gen, RPS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreopsis/pseuds/coreopsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to A System of Systems.  Brian introduces Bob to Matt and Dan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have the Technology

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: deals with injury and loss of limb in a non-gory fashion

Bob was out of the hospital for less than a week when Brian came to see him in the middle of the night with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a number written on the inside of a matchbook. It was a sign of how out of it Bob still was that his first response was not "Thank God you're alive" or "How did you make it out of the building uninjured?" or even "Thanks for the liquor."

"Where the hell did you find a matchbook? I haven't seen one of these since I was a kid." Bob sat there, turning the matchbook over and over in his good hand. He was hiding his prosthetic under the blanket draped over his lap, not because he was ashamed for Brian to see it but because he couldn't stand the way the light glinted off the metal. It was a reminder of everything he'd lost. He didn't even have a leg yet. He'd have to go back in a couple weeks for that, and that empty space below the bandages...well, it was just easier to focus on an antique matchbook than the worried look in Brian's eyes.

"I didn't--that's just what the guy gave me. I met him through Pete." Bob rolled his eyes and Brian shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but Pete knows everybody--"

"I thought _you_ knew everybody."

"Almost, but Pete knows everyone I don't know, so between us, we found you the best cybershop in town."

"Brian, it's not that I don't appreciate it." Bob clenched his fist around the matchbook, feeling the edges of the thick paper cut into his skin before crumpling. "You shouldn't take such a risk for me."

"Okay, look, I know you don't want to do anything to attract government attention, but this shit is not right. You deserve to get proper care without having to fucking register in the database so the feds can keep an eye on you at all times." Brian paced back and forth in front of Bob's couch, righteous indignation burning in his eyes and turning his face red. "I talked to these guys, okay? They are good and, most importantly, discreet. Their front is impeccable and they do amazing work. Patrick says he knows a guy they worked on who can pass as one hundred percent bio. Anything less than an x-ray scanner, and nobody even knows the dude is half made up of spare parts. Unless he reads the front page of a newspaper from three hundred yards away."

"Spare parts? Are you for fucking serious?"

Brian looked uncomfortable and said, "I know how that sounds. Yeah, they are scavengers, but topnotch roboticists as well. Come on, at least meet with them. Don't just dismiss the idea out of hand."

Bob absolutely did not want to go anywhere. He wanted to sit on his couch and wallow in his perfectly reasonable self-pity. He reached for the bottle of Jack and cracked it open. He was halfway through taking his first swig straight from the bottle when Brian suddenly reached for the bottle. "Is that going to interfere with your meds?"

"Fuck my meds," Bob snapped and took another long swallow. He'd never been a fan of sour mash whiskey but Brian had stopped drinking so long ago that he'd probably forgotten Bob's preferences. When he finally wiped his mouth off on the shoulder of his shirt and wedged the bottle between his thighs again to get the cap back on, he looked up at Brian for a long moment. "So what the hell're you bringing me liquor for anyway? Bribing me to see your miracle worker robopunks or trying to get in my pants?"

"Oh. You wound me deeply, Bob." Brian slapped a hand over his heart, as he sat down on the couch beside Bob being careful not to jostle him. Then he turned toward Bob and looked him in the eye, completely sincere and serious, when he said, "I love you like my own brother--actually a little more than my brother because you and I have been through some shit together that he could never even wrap his head around. But I am not trying to get into your pants. Like, ever. I am only trying to do what's best for you."

"I will decide what is best for me," Bob said, but he could already feel his resolve weakening. What could it hurt to go and see these guys that Brian was so het up about?

"Just think about it," Brian said as he settled into Bob's side like he belonged there and picked up the TV remote. "Hey, I think they're replaying yesterday's game on one of the ESPNs. Wanna watch?"

"Sure," Bob said, his mind already going back to Brian's comment about not wanting him. It's not that Bob had a burning passion for Brian either, but at least Brian knew him, knew the man he used to be. Nobody would ever want him now. They'd have to get past all the metal and missing bits and he wasn't worth that much work. Maybe he'd get a cat to keep him company. That would piss Brian off good and proper because he hated cats more than anything except the government, something Bob always found highly amusing. He poked at Brian's leg and said, "I think I'm going to get a cat."

Brian poked him back like this was any other night and everything was perfectly normal and said, "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. Maybe a Siamese." Bob didn't smile, but it was the first time in weeks that he felt like he could if he wanted to.

"Where did this evil streak come from? You used to be such a nice guy." Brian waved him off and turned up the TV. "Be quiet with your crazy talk now, the commercial's over."

 

***

A few days later, Brian took Bob to meet these mysterious guys who would give him new bionic limbs at the utterly ridiculous hour of five in the morning. When Brian pulled up outside a diner in a prt of the city neither of them had ever frequented before, Bob said, "You decided to stop for breakfast?"

"This is where we're meeting them. They're checking you out as much as you're checking them," Brian said, turning off the car and taking the keys out of the ignition. He jingled them in his hand. "Thanks for giving this a chance."

"I'm not completely convinced, but I trust you." Bob looked out the window at the nondescript diner and then back at Brian. "Well, let's do this."

"That's the spirit," Brian said cheerfully and Bob kind of wanted to smack him. He just sat there until Brian got his chair out of the backseat and positioned it so that Bob could get into it.

Brian started to push him toward the building, but Bob shoved his hands away. "I'll do it. You just get the door."

Brian didn't say anything, just did what Bob wanted which made Bob wonder if he was getting sick or something. He never gave in easily on anything.

They paused inside the door while Brian looked over the patrons until he apparently found who he was looking for. He started walking toward a table at the back where two guys were eating breakfast. One side of the table already had a chair removed, so Bob rolled up to it and set his brake. Brian took the seat at Bob's right side and Bob looked over the guys he was there to meet while they waited for the server droid to come and take their orders. They were both around Brian's age and dressed in dark, nondescript work clothes that made them blend in with the other people who tended to be out and about at 5 a.m.

The bald one directly across from Bob stopped eating his eggs and soy bacon long enough to say, "I'm Dan. This is Matt." He nodded at the tall man sitting on Bob's left, putting away pancakes covered in blueberries like he hadn't eaten in a week. Dan's brown eyes were serious and his voice was soft when he added, "Let's not worry about last names."

The server droid rolled up and Bob asked for coffee and the daily special, without bothering to find out what the special even was. He turned back to find Matt watching him with intent blue eyes over the rim of his coffee cup. When he realized he was caught, Matt just set his cup down and smiled. "So Bob, I hear you want to buy a car."

"Yeah, um, nothing fancy, just something to get around in," Bob stumbled over the answer he was supposed to give and then felt stupid. If he was going to do this thing, actually break the law, he was going to have to suck it up and learn to lie with every breath he took. "I have certain, you know...requirements."

"Well, you're in luck. Conversions are what we specialize in," Matt said as the droid returned with Bob and Brian's breakfast and refilled everyone's coffee cups.

Nobody said anything until the droid was gone. Matt tucked back into his food and Dan finished his off, then took a little notepad and a pen out of his jacket pocket.

The daily special turned out to be pancakes with hashbrowns and soy sausages, and it was fine but Bob was too nervous to really eat much. He couldn't help the creeping feeling that the feds were going to come bursting it at any minute, guns drawn, demanding to see his registration papers. He hadn't even technically done anything wrong yet, so he forced himself not to look over his shoulder constantly. He noticed that Dan had a clear view of the kitchen and the little hallway that led to the bathrooms, while Matt was positioned to keep the front door in sight at all times.

"How tall are you?" Dan asked, pen poised over paper. "What size shoes and shirt do you wear?"

Bob choked down the mouthful of pancakes he'd been chewing and looked at Brian. Brian just shrugged and sipped his coffee. Bob told Dan what he wanted to know and watched as he wrote it all down in some incomprehensible shorthand.

"What do you do for a living? Are you active or sedentary?" Dan asked.

Bob looked at Brian and then back at Dan. "Pretty active, I guess? I do sound at a couple clubs and some other, uh, freelance stuff. I'm--I was--on my feet a lot."

Dan nodded and started doodling a picture of a race car next to his notes.

Matt pushed his plate away and propped his chin in his hand, elbow on the edge of the table. He looked from Bob to Brian and back again. "So what's up with the two of you?"

"What's up with the two of you?" Brian shot back, wryly. "And I thought there were supposed to be three of you."

"Derek is...indisposed," Matt said as Dan muttered, "Keeping watch outside" almost too quiet for Bob to hear.

Matt glanced at Dan and shrugged one shoulder. He turned back to Brian with a smile. "So we might be just a little paranoid around people we don't know. And just because Pete introduced you to me and Patrick vouched for Bob, that doesn't mean we know you."

"Patrick doesn't vouch for just anyone though," Brian said, and wow, Bob had forgotten that he could be that earnest.

"That's why we're here," Matt said, smiling at Bob as he reached under the table. Bob flinched when he felt Matt's fingers brush against his thigh, right next to where his prosthetic arm was tucked out of sight in his lap. "Relax. I just want to see what I'll be working with."

"So you'll take Bob on as a client?" Brian asked, as Matt continued to feel up Bob's prosthetic arm and his actual leg under the table. His fingers were gentle when they touched cloth-covered flesh and Bob kind of wished he could see how Matt was touching the metal, but he couldn't bring himself to look down.

Matt looked at Dan who nodded slightly, and then he gave Bob's thigh a tender squeeze before withdrawing his hand completely and picking up his coffee cup. "Yes, we will. I hope you can afford us."

"Don't worry about the money," Bob said. He didn't care if it took all his savings and more besides to put him back together, stronger and faster than he was before. He had a small housedroid and some sound equipment he could sell if he had to. He'd get it somewhere.


End file.
